Wooden floor

Now the personal is not so much out of the way but here to stay and in this blog entry a bit of the fermented hops is having its day and the noise in the left side of my loci of focus (what I imagine is my brain’s (central nervous system’s) interpretation of thought space) is having its say, I can push the thoughts into words and open a curtain onto the view of the wooden floor in this Hilton Garden Inn room where my wife handmakes cards while I type text miles (kilometers!) away from Jenn.

We understand the words “wooden” and “floor” with little explanation.

What makes us think we know what another person is feeling?

Why here, now, in this space station, do I want a wooden floor?

If I project back in time or forward in time how do I know the placement of sets of states of energy we call moments were actual fact and not supposition?

That is what I write about…

In the next installment, risk assessment and risk management (i.e., what price love)?

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